Rage (34 page)

Chicago earlier that week. and they’d had a great time catching

up, but Steph was disappointed that she couldn’t wander London

with him and show him the sights. The wedding had been so

close yesterday—in a private garden less than five minutes away

by car—and she’d begged Phillip to let her go. But he was still

fabulously overprotective and wouldn’t budge. From the details

Phillip and Gerald leaked over last night’s dinner of Indian take-out, she could tell she missed the event of the season.

The doorbell sounded, and Cheyenne sauntered in carrying

a large basket of Steph’s favorite treats.

“Hey!” Cheyenne smiled, coming out onto the balcony

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RAGE

where Steph was propped up like a giant queen bee. She looked

thin and well rested. Steph wanted to kick her over the balcony

into the river.

Gerald put a hand on his hip. “Do you really think she needs

more food, Chey?”

“She’s eating for two, Ger.” Cheyenne chuckled, tossing her

chocolate brown hair.

He gave Steph a long sideways glance. “Two what? Water

buffalo?”

Steph blinked at him. “I hate you all.”

After Gerald had a chance to shower, he and Cheyenne

pulled chairs up next to Steph’s chaise lounge. The basket of

treats was spread around them like the world’s most unhealthy

picnic, and they’d settled in for the weirdest slideshow known to man. Stephanie had traded her plate for her laptop and they were scrolling through the digital pictures of Nathan’s and Saffron’s hand joining ceremony. Steph’s mouth hung open.

“Oh…my…God.” She murmured, clicking the mouse.

“Yep.” Cheyenne concurred.

Gerald pointed to the screen proudly. “Notice the way I cap-

tured the light radiating off her rhinestone bra?”

“Stunning. Wait. Is that David?” Steph asked, her voice

suddenly small like that of a frightened child. She was having

trouble processing the images as reality.

“Yes. He got the privilege of being one of the slave men

carrying the bride’s litter.”

“That’s far better than what she made Nathan do.” When

Steph cocked an eyebrow at her, Cheyenne elaborated. “When

she stepped down from her litter, he had to be her stool.”

“You have
got
to be joking.” Steph stared at Cheyenne.

Gerald nodded at the mouse. “Click twice more and see for

yourself.”

Cheyenne giggled, but it soon turned into a chortle. “You

should have heard the vows.” Gerald had been in the act of tak-

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ing a drink and sprayed bottled water all over the balcony.

“It came out my nose, you bitch.” He laughed.

Two hundred pictures later, Stephanie had had her fill. Plus

the baby was stomping on her bladder with both feet.

“I have to pee. And go shave my eyeballs.”

“Thanks for sharing.” Gerald’s grimaced comically, but he

offered his hand to help her up. The moment she stood, there was a sudden sound of rushing water. Gerald jumped back from

Steph in horror and hid behind Cheyenne who stared at the

ground wide-eyed.

“I guess I waited too long to go.” Steph deadpanned.

“I think we need to call your husband.” Cheyenne replied

without missing a beat.

“I think
you
need to buy me new shoes.” Gerald chimed in, sounding mortified.

“Gerald, go get the car.”

His ebony face was nothing short of incredulous. “You go

get your car. She’s not getting in
mine
like that.”

Cheyenne huffed and flung her keys at him as she dialed her

phone with one hand. Steph bent to scoop up her camera and felt

a shooting pain in her back. She dug her fingers into Gerald’s

arm and refused to let go. He winced, but wisely said nothing as he led her to the front door. She decided this was the perfect time to freak out.

“Oh shit! Where the hell is my bag? I thought I put it right

by the door!” she said, feeling a tingly sensation in her fingers and toes.

“Take a deep breath, Steph; we’ve got everything you

need.” Cheyenne held up the bag as she held out her phone with

the other hand. It was ringing and on speaker phone mode.

When he answered on the second ring, Phillip sounded as

panicked as Steph felt. “Cheyenne?”

“Phillip…its go time.”

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RAGE

From the moment they crossed the hospital threshold,

Steph, who was contracting every ten minutes, was begging

every staff member (including a passing janitor) for drugs.

Once they reached the maternity ward, a friendly faced old

nurse leaned down and took Steph’s hand in both of hers.

“Sweetie, just breathe. Your birth plan says you want to do

this naturally.”

Steph blew a hair out of her eyes. “That was then, and this

is now, Sister.”

“Let’s get you settled in your room and you can talk to the

doctor about it. You should know it won’t be as good for your

baby.”

Steph’s face contorted as if she was being tortured, and she

choked out a shriek. One hand grasped at her side, the other

grabbed the front of the nurse's scrubs. When she spoke, her

voice had dropped an octave. “Listen, Florence Nightingale: this baby is three quarters Irish, and she’s a Brier. Her liver can take anything you can dish out! Now get me something for the

fucking pain!”

Gerald cackled, and Cheyenne covered a wide smile.

“So you’re having a girl?” Cheyenne’s faux innocence

made the color run out of Steph’s cheeks. Panicked eyes shot

around the hall as if she expected a camera crew. It was under-

standable. The paparazzi have been following Steph since she

started showing.

“Don’t tell Phillip. He wants to be surprised,” she begged.

While Gerald wheeled Steph off to her birth suite, Cheyenne

headed back downstairs to the entrance to wait for Phillip. Five minutes later, Bret’s tricked out SUV pulled up to the door. Phillip jumped out before they came to a complete stop and rushed

through the doors as if he were in a disaster movie. David and

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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

Scot trailed behind him.

Phillip whipped his head in either direction then looked

helplessly at Cheyenne. “I can’t remember where the maternity

ward is!”

Cheyenne pointed to her right, and Phillip lit off down the

hall like his hair was on fire.

Scot crossed to Cheyenne and greeted her with a peck on

the cheek. His looked amused. “The whole way here he was try-

ing to remember Lamaze.”

“And Bret told him just to remember the beat to “We will

rock you” and to quit being such a sissy boy,” David laughed.

Cheyenne shook her head. Since Sarah had given birth to twins

last spring, the lead guitarist now had four kids, so the veteran father could dole out such casual advice.

“Laugh if you want, but I feel very sorry for Phillip right

now.” She replied as Bret moseyed in the door. “Steph said

they’re having a girl.”

“Oh thank the lord. Phillip’s boy name was atrocious.” Scot

ran a hand through his long hair.

David titled his head to the side. “It wasn’t going to be Phil-

lip Junior?”

“No worse. Bartholomew Callahan Kersey.”

“I just threw up in my mouth.” Bret shook his head critical-

ly. He glanced at his watch facetiously. “So…let’s see…first

baby…water broke less than one hour ago…I think we should go

have some lunch and buy a novel or two at the gift shop.”

David’s phone rang, and he held up a finger to them. “Hey,

Babe.” He answered, “No…no hurry. She just went into labor,

and the baby’s not going anywhere. Keep your flight for tomor-

row. I miss you more.”

As David wandered off with his cell phone to his ear, Chey-

enne and Scot exchanged a smile. Yara was in New York for

Fashion Week, but she still called David about once an hour and

texted more often than that.

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RAGE

As they followed Bret to the gift shop, Scot took Chey-

enne’s hand. “Do you think I should go get Liam?”

She shook her head. “No. He’ll throw a fit if you pull him

out of school early. I’ll text Kara. She can just pick him up at his normal time and bring him straight here.”

“Cheyenne, its nursery school. He’s three and a half.

They’re not studying trigonometry.”

“You tell
him
that.” She replied as she wandered down the book and magazine aisle. She froze when she saw her book on

an end cap. Her autobiography
I Married a Rock Star: My Life
with the Boys in the Band
had spent four months on the
New
York Times
Best Sellers List. She was trying her hand at fiction now that Liam was happily in school. She loved writing without

tight deadlines and had to credit her husband for pushing her to make the transition from music journalist to author. Though she

occasionally submitted pieces to Adam, she was no longer on the

payroll at
The Sound Wave
. Running in the circles she did, she often stumbled across great new acts and interesting tidbits of

musical interest, and Adam’s magazine would always get first

dibs.

“What the hell is this?” Bret asked, pulling Cheyenne out of

her reflection. She turned and saw him holding up a Fury lunch-

box. They all commenced laughing so loudly that the clerk

shushed them.

“Oh my. You know you’re a sell-out when kids drink

chicken noodle soup out of your head,” David chimed in as he

pulled out a thermos that featured a close up of Phillip’s seductive face.

“Does anyone else find this inappropriate for grammar

school?” Scot flipped the lunchbox over to the backside which

featured the name of their album,
Freudian Slip.

“I’m getting one.” Bret announced, taking the thermos back

from David.

“I want one,” Cheyenne whined.

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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE

“Well, this one’s mine, so bugger off.” Bret taunted her.

“I’ll see if there are any more in the back.” The clerk

snapped her gum without looking up at them.

“Oh, Lord.” Scot shook his head.

As her most recent contraction passed, Steph wearily leaned

back against Phillip. She’d been sitting between his legs and

he’d been rubbing her back when it came, and it was a mon-

strous one. She’d been at the hospital for three hours. Her con-

tractions were now six minutes apart, and she’d nearly jacked the nurse in the mouth when she checked her a few minutes before

and claimed she was only two centimeters dilated.

Phillip wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek.

“You’re doing great, love. You’re so fearless.”

“Uh, shut up and get off of me, Phillip. I can’t breathe.” She

pushed his arms away and tried to move forward.

“I do believe you’re on me.” He joked, and she rolled her

eyes and scooted toward the edge of the bed. She’d had the epi-

dural, and it had made it even harder to move around than usual.

There was a light tap on the door, and Cheyenne poked her

head in.

“Need a break?” she asked, her eyes meeting Phillip’s.

“Yes!” Steph and Phillip said in unison. Cheyenne covered

a grin.

“Your family’s downstairs. They brought you some shep-

herd’s pie.” Phillip reached out to touch Steph’s shoulder, and

she yanked it away.

“Need anything?” he asked, looking dejected.

“Yep. To have this baby out of me. Can you do that, Phil-

lip?” She pointed to her mid-section with both hands. As she